


Panic

by acatalepsy



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Anxiety, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Rhett tries so hard to be a good friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 14:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4609434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acatalepsy/pseuds/acatalepsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Link has a panic attack after cutting himself on set while filming for GMM and Rhett has to talk him down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Panic

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the generic title.  
> This fic is loosely based off of the GMMore of the episode in which RandL have a go at being house salesmen and Link accidentally impales himself. I doubt it went down anywhere near as dramatically as it does in this fic lmao  
> As you may have guessed, panic attacks are something that I'm pretty familiar with, as most people that tend to write this kind of stuff are. However, I'm emetophobic so mine are always nausea related and completely unlike this fic. Tl;dr Anxiety is different for everyone! The spectrum of suffering doesn't discriminate.  
> I live for Link-centric h/c so sorry if you're not a fan of this sort of stuff, but I know what I'm about, son.  
> Comments and critiques are always welcome!

The day had been going relatively well up until then. He and Rhett were close to getting all the footage they needed for their latest video, save for the grand finale, aka., projecting Rhett's face onto the front of a house. It was a stunt they'd been preparing for weeks prior. The idea had been a joint effort so in the end they had to draw straws over who was going to gain the honour of being 'The Projected One'. Much to Link's dismay, he'd lost, but he was still excited to see how it would turn out, plus entertaining all the people at the open house had put him in a good mood. They were finishing up on the last of their day-filming when it happened.

Link bounded past the courtyard swimming pool and spun around to look at he and Rhett’s most recent ‘client’, a woman in her late fifties with fraying grey hair and an ill-fitting suit. Although she probably had only come to the house for property-value and investment related reasons, she'd still humoured the two internetainers. Letting them corral her throughout the house's cramped and run-down rooms, she listened as they verbally parried back and forth, a maelstrom of witty banter.

The glasses’d pair of the duo beamed and gestured emphatically towards the aloe vera plants that lined the outside of the house. “And here - we have what I regard to be the gem of the estate.” Eddie stepped forward and adjusted his camera, zooming in on the plants. They stretched upwards, their thick, velvet spikes starting off as a dull green that faded before tapering off into long, black, spear-like points. As Link gestured, his hand got snagged, slicing open his palm.

He hissed in pain and withdrew his arm sharply. Beads of blood, dark and jewel-like, sprang up across his palm in a neat little line. Shit, shit, _shit_. Immediately his heart began to race. _What was the first call of action for when you cut yourself? Run the cut under water? Shove a plaster on it_? He swore under his breath and gripped his wrist trying to stem the blood flow.

“Oh, dear,” Janice (Jocelyn? Carol?) peered around his shoulder. A chuckle escaped her lips when she spotted the stricken expression upon his face. “Would you like me to kiss it better?”

Link could feel Rhett and the crew watching him warily. Everyone knew he had a phobia of blood. Maybe he was just imagining it, but it felt like there was a sudden unspoken tension in the air. Closing his eyes, he let out a slow breath, desperately trying to stay calm. They still hadn’t finished filming yet and he didn't want to freak out in front of everyone and cause a fuss. Even worse, he didn’t want them to treat him like he was made of glass for so many awkward days later. He was so used to being referred to as the 'weaker' of he and Rhett - just the thought of everyone’s hypothetical concern caused embarrassment to creep up in his chest.

He let out a laugh that he hoped came across as genuine. “Sure. Go ahead?” As Janice stooped over, pretending to kiss his hand, his gaze fixed on a point somewhere off in the distance. It took all he could do not to think about how he could feel the blood slowly beginning to drip and run into the creases of his palm.

Janice gently lay her hand on his sleeve, “'You alright there, love? You’re looking rather pale.”

“I’m fine," Link said a bit too quickly, yanking his arm away from her.

An impossibly high-pitched ringing was slowly beginning to build in his ears, making everything feel like it was suddenly plunged underwater. The sounds of the crew talking and cars rushing past outside were muffled, yet somehow amplified, and the smell of chlorine from the pool was mixed with something vaguely metallic that made him feel nauseous.

In his peripheral vision, he could see Rhett turn to Eddie and mumble something. He then handed him his camera and strode across the courtyard to brush up against Link's shoulder.

“Hey, man. Do you wanna go sit down for a sec or something?” His voice was quiet and measured and so cautious that it made Link feel even worse. _This was not going to happen right now. It_ wasn't _happening right now. The cut wasn't even that deep! Why was he panicking about nothing?_ Everyone was going to think he was completely unstable, and not in a humorous way. Not in a way that could be joked about later in a Good Mythical Morning anecdote. He had control over those situations. This was different. Humiliating.

“I said that I was _fine_." Link cleared his throat self-consciously, looking away.

Rhett’s eyebrows remained furrowed with concern as watched Link lift a shaky hand to rub at his eyes beneath his glasses. "Well, I sent Eddie off to go looking for a plaster, anyway. He'll probably be back any-- Link?"

Suddenly he was hit by a wave of dizziness. The ground felt like it was falling out from beneath him and he stumbled sideways, thrown off-balance. At once sturdy hands were gripping his shoulders too-tightly, keeping him upright. The world spun like the shaken-up technicolour insides of a kaleidoscope. _Rhett?_ He thought dimly, grey seeping in at the corners of his vision.

He tried to take a breath in to say that he could manage on his own and that he just needed a moment, but there wasn't enough oxygen in his lungs. His hands flew to his chest.

Proper panic set in now. Forgetting all about the blood that was now smearing his shirt, Link's thoughts shifted into a different gear. _What would happen if he passed out? Could you give yourself brain damage from that? When was the last time he had his blood pressure tested? He was probably going to have a heart attack. It_ felt _like he was having a heart attack._

In his disoriented state, he faintly registered that someone was - shouting? - nearby. There were other voices as well. All talking over top of one another, they battled to be heard. -- _What's going on? Does he need an ambulance? Uh, do you want me to film this? Or is this something I shouldn't be filming because_ \--

"He just needs space, _okay?"_ That was definitely Rhett's voice. And he sounded pissed, but mostly worried as hell. " _This has happened before. Just- back off for a second."_

Link felt himself being maneuvered and slowly lowered down until he met the cold, tiled ground, his back propped up against a wall of some sort. His chest ached as he struggled to regain control of his breathing. Everything was out of rhythm, his ribs refusing to let his lungs expand like they were supposed to.

Rhett crouched down in front of him, hands still on his shoulders. "Link- breathe. Breathe with me."

Link squeezed his eyes shut and groaned.

"Hey. It's, uh, all right. Everything will be okay. You're hyperventilating so you just gotta try to slow it down a little bit, okay?"

_What did it look like he was trying to do?!_ Link wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh or cry. To Rhett's credit, despite the way it sounded like everything he was saying was taken straight from a WikiHow article, at least he was trying. He'd confessed before about how awkward situations like this were for him and Link knew that in general Rhett wasn't a very confrontational person, or even a person who was that comfortable with anything emotional.

"Try and copy me." Rhett managed to prise Link's fingers out of the fist they were making as they clung onto the material of his shirt and splayed them across his chest, taking an exaggerated breath in. As Rhett exhaled, Link could feel his heartbeat through his shirt, fast-paced, erratic, though his chest rise and fell with enviable ease.

Link tried to mimic him, getting at least half way through a shuddering inhale before beginning to cough and splutter, doubling over.

"Come on, brother. Work with me here." Rhett exhaled slowly once more.

"I'm - _trying_ ," Link choked out, still managing to sound exasperated despite the way he felt like he was floating somewhere high above his body.

"Well, try harder then!"

It shouldn't have been funny, but Rhett's complete lack of tact combined with the way he looked slightly mad with desperation, his hair and clothing disheveled, and the way the strength of his Southern accent seemed to increase exponentially when he was concerned was so ridiculous that Link couldn't help but laugh, shoulders shaking breathlessly.

After a moment of confusion, Rhett began laughing too, albeit borderline hysterical.

Miraculously, after that the vice-like grip around Link's chest seemed to loosen and eventually his short, stuttering gasps began to even out and become deeper, until he no longer felt like he was drowning. The air around him became blessedly cool, like the first breath in at the top of a snowy mountain, or a sip of water after chewing mint-flavoured gum.

He slumped against the wall he was leaning on, deciding that he was too tired to ever move again. Every part of his body ached. For a moment, a terrible thought struck him and he held his wounded hand out in front of him. He expected to find something worthy of amputation, but instead there was now a clean, hastily wrapped bandage around it.

Rhett scooted across the ground to join him. He looked equally as exhausted, tilting his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. After a few minutes he tentatively broke the silence, "You feelin’ alright?"

"'M just tired," Link sighed, pulling his glasses off and running his fingers around their rim. His voice was still a bit hoarse. After a long pause he spoke again, this time with dread. "Where are the crew?"

"I sent everyone home. We have enough usable material already, anyway. Tonight we’ll come back to shoot all the projector stuff."

Link groaned and buried his face in his hands. As much as he wanted to pretend that nothing had happened, facing the rest of the crew was inevitable. "Great."

Rhett tilted his head to the side, "Y'know, I really doubt they'll think any less of you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, there's only so much dignity a man can lose. After everything you've already done on GMM I doubt there's any lower point. You can't divide by zero."

Link rolled his eyes but a smile quirked at the corner of his lips. "You're a jerk."


End file.
